


my buckle makes impressions (on the inside of her thigh)

by badartndadjokes



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Rodeo AU, Smut, fairly explicit sex, rating change chap 3, teen drinking and general stupidity, very typical oklahoma slang and country music references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badartndadjokes/pseuds/badartndadjokes
Summary: There’s fifteen minutes between barrel racing and steer roping, and she really should be getting her tack ready. But instead, she’s got one hand on the wall and the other hoisting Waverly’s legs around her hips.“We don’t have a lot of time,” She breaks away to breathe against Waverly’s lips. “Barrel racing just ended so steer ro-““Steer roping starts in fifteen minutes. I know, baby.” Waverly smirks against her lips, head ducking to suck a path down Nicole’s neck.or (the rodeo au)
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 55
Kudos: 460





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh hello
> 
> i really wanted this to only be 2 chapters, but life got in the way and i haven’t had time to fully write this out. so, i thought i’d slide in the first of 4 parts just to get it out of the way! 
> 
> lemme know if you like it, or hate it, or even love it

“It’s a beautiful day here in Guthrie, y’all,” the announcer booms over the loudspeakers. “A sunny 85 degrees out and we’re starting out with team roping in fifteen minutes!”

She takes a deep breath of the hot air, hand combing back the already damp curls trapped by her hat against her forehead. The hat itself at least relieves the blunt force of the sun on her face but does little to stem the pressure of the hangover thudding through her temples. 

There’s a feather tucked into the band from a kid in the crowd and she smiles fondly when she looks up to see most of the young children in the stands waving at her from where she rests on her horse to the side of the arena. Her hand raises in an idle wave to their delight. 

The announcer booms the scores to beat from last weeks rodeo in Arcadia. Her and Dolls have the other teams beat by ten seconds across all boards, and she lazily lets her mind wander to other ways they can shave a couple seconds off while her eyes track along the inhabitants of the bleachers. 

Her perch on Calamity Jane, a dark red Paint horse, gives her enough reach that she can see over the gates and into the corral behind the judges stand. 

Nicole lets her eyes wander until she sees who she’s looking for, Waverly Earp, sitting astride her enormous black Thoroughbred, leading him through practice poles slowly. A grin spread across her lips without her noticing. 

Shouts come from her left and when she looks over, she’s not particularly amazed to see it belongs to the bronc’ riders, mostly heralded by their de facto leader, Champ Hardy, as they hype themselves up. 

Several of them compete in the team roping rounds with her, and she’s not all that fond of their company, least of all Champ. 

He’d been a thorn in her side since junior rodeo days, back when they were both fighting for first place at steer wrestling, and Waverly’s attention. 

Truthfully, they hadn’t always hated each other. Back before the Earp’s had wormed their way into her life, he was her first friend in Purgatory. Before he’d been  _ Champ _ , he’d been James, he’d been Nicole’s roping partner all throughout junior rodeo, and technically he’d been Nicole’s best friend. 

She remembers them racing across the Haught ranch with him hot at her heels, chasing chickens and practicing their roping on dummy heads behind the barn. 

Once they’d moved on from mutton busting and calf riding and onto steers and team roping, all of that changed. It probably didn’t help that puberty was hitting all the kids at the same time, and that it coincided with more stress and more pressure from the rodeo and their parents. All of that culminated with the arrival of the Earps back into town.

Purgatory, Oklahoma was about as small a town as you could get. Everybody knew everybody, and outsiders rarely stayed long. All but the Haughts. They’d moved there when she was eight, right before the Earp sisters had left Purgatory after Wynonna shot her daddy, going to stay out of state with their Aunt and Uncle.

By the time the Earp’s moved back home, seven years later, Nicole had melded into life in Purgatory seamlessly. No one had half a mind to warn her about them though, did they?

  
  


——

  
  


She’d moved here when she was eight. Her parents had packed everything in their house up and moved them from city-life in Texas, straight to middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma, in the middle of summer. 

Oklahoma summers are nothing like Texas ones. The only similarity? That big fat sun still burns just as hot, and her Momma still rubs just as much sunscreen on her before she jets out of the house. Other than that, Oklahoma summers hold this humidity in them that Dallas never had, that kind of sticky, thick air that makes your clothes glue to you and turns the heat of her red hair scalding on her head. 

The land they’ve moved onto has acres that span farther than she’s ever dreamed of. Miles and miles for her to run her horse, Calamity Jane, up and down the fields and fence lines. Which is what she wants to be doing right now, if she didn’t have to help her Daddy clean out their chicken coop.

He has all these grand ideas of them living off the land and supporting themselves, and she just wants to play. School starts in a month, there’s rodeos ending and starting again in September, and her Daddy wants her to clean years old chicken crap off walls?

Nicole tells him all this. It’s a very serious discussion, as it should be, and he watches her argue her way out of helping him with a serious set to his mouth and a barely there smile crinkle beside his eyes. 

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, serious tone fading into a chuckle as he looks over Nicole’s shoulder to the house down the hill from them, “There’s a family down the hill with a boy your age. You can either help me with this coop, or you can go introduce yourself and play with him. Your choice.”

She squints at him. Boring chores or a potentially boring new playmate? 

In hindsight, choosing the playmate wasn’t her best choice. But eight-year-old Nicole doesn’t know what to think of the tow-headed bumbling boy that grins too wide and doesn’t hesitate for a second to come out and play with her. 

He quickly becomes her friend, and she’s thrilled when she learns he does all the same events she did when she did rodeos in Texas. 

He tells her his name is James as they race across the empty field between their two houses. He’s missing his front two teeth and has a lisp that makes her laugh. Her daddy asks how it went when she gets back to the house, and she tilts her head side to side to let the idea of a friend rattle around. 

“He was alright,” she says, but she’s grinning.

When they start school the next month, he’s in her class. Their names are super close,  _ Hardy  _ and  _ Haught _ , and he slides into the seat beside her with a smile, and she doesn’t mind when he leans over and asks how to spell things or what the answer to a math problem is. 

His friends are all fairly nice, most of them fairly slow and kind of petty, but they all welcome her rather easily. It’s a smooth transition into rodeo season with them and the barrel race girls always ask her to help them with their tack, giggling and throwing each other looks while they act like Nicole can’t see them. 

Seeing as they’re eight now, they start in on team roping and calf riding. 

Her first ever calf ride goes as expected. She fusses at the protective vest they hand her, and wiggles away when her mom brushes a kiss to the top of her curls, but her dad hauls her up over the fence and on top of the wildly jerking calf. Fear settles in at her fingertips, and she desperately wants to go back to watching kids ride calfs from the stands, instead of doing it herself. 

The announcer well, announces, her name, and cheering from above her erupts, surprising her. When she looks up, it’s James and her new friends, the York boys and Samantha and Stephanie, one of the barrel racing girls, Chrissy, Perry, and the Gardner girls. She feels a blush rise to her cheeks when the eldest Gardner, Mercedes, wiggles her fingers in Nicole’s direction and grins. 

James shouts  _ Go Nicole! _ , fists raised and smile wide. He has his own protective vest on, and she sees his helmet rest against his boots. He’d drawn the long straw and was going second-to-last, and he must have ducked away from his mother’s attention to come watch her run. 

Her dad pats her on the shoulder through the fence gaps and shouts something. By the smile on his face she assumes it’s encouraging, but the blood rushing in her ears makes it hard for her to make anything out. He points to the front of the fence and she sees the boys at either side nod at her, hands tight on the enclosure’s ropes. 

The whistle blows, and then her world is narrowed to eight seconds. 

The hand wrapped in the calf rope is clenched for dear life, and she whips her other up above her head like she’s watched her dad and bull riders do for her whole life. 

She has no idea how many seconds it’s been already, as the calf bucks and bows and tosses her around, and all she can think of is  _ stay upright, don’t touch the calf, don’t fall off _ . 

And then, the whistle is blowing, and she’s slipping off the calf in a haze. A clown rushes her off to the side, and she slips behind the fence shell-shocked. 

When her dad rounds the corner and asks her how it was, all she can do is smile. They hand her a shiny blue bow and an envelope with $25 in it, and her friends crowd her, cheering and shouting. 

The next couple of years pass in a blur of roping and riding, and she wonders if life is supposed to be like anything else. 

  
  


——

  
  


She’s smoking behind the church, like she does every Sunday. Her nice church shirt lies on the milk crates beside her, body to the wind so that the smoke doesn’t linger on her clothes. The pack of Reds she’d bummed off of the York’s porch this morning is hidden in the inside pocket of her jacket, lighter spinning idly in her hand. 

“Ain’t nobody ever told you that those things are bad for you?” 

The voice startles her, the lighter dropping from between her fingertips into the dust. She turns at the sound, spitting the cigarette out from between her lips and stomping it out with her heel. 

A girl about her age stands against the side of the church, hip cocked to the side and eyebrow raised expectantly. Nicole guesses that she’s about fourteen, a year or so younger than her, runs a questioning eye over the girls clean, fresh pressed dress, and the stockings that go up to her knees. She looks familiar, in a lazy way, like Nicole’s seen her in pictures, could probably recall her name if she was real hard pressed, but won’t.

Nicole raises her own eyebrow back at the girl, pushing off the wall and taking a step forward. “Are you gonna be that one that does?” She asks, eyes squinting against the sun that pokes around the wall once she steps closer. 

The girl crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “I might.” Her voice takes on a defiant tone that Nicole always hears Champ’s get when his brother tries to tattle on them to Mr. Hardy. The girl’s chin raises into the air and Nicole feels her eyes start to roll in annoyance. 

With a huff, Nicole picks up her shirt from the crates and hastily tucks it back into her jeans. She chances a look back at the girl who’s looking at her like she’s grown three heads. 

“You shouldn’t smoke then,” Nicole says as she bends to pick up her hat from the ground. She blows the dust off the brim and sets it gently on her head, fingers combing errant red curls over her ears. Smirking at the girl, she takes a couple steps until she’s in front of her, her summer growth spurt adding to her already taller than most height, and she nearly towers over the girl. “Since it’s so bad for you and all.”

Now that she’s so close, she gets a good look at the smattering of freckles across the girl’s nose and the gold tints that picks up the still rising sun’s rays from their right. Her hair is neat in its braid, and she’s tempted to ask what this  _ kid _ thinks she’s doing bossing her around, when she sees movement over the girl’s shoulder. 

The recently nicknamed Champ and the York boys are wrestling in the yard, the barrel racing girls and the younger pole bending kids cheering them on from the sidelines. They catch sight of her, and she sees Champ grin over and begin to motion at her, before Kyle tackles his legs and sends him face first in the dirt. 

He beats her  _ one time  _ and the whole school decides to stop calling him James, and call him  _ Champ _ . It annoys her, only slightly, but she bested him by 6 seconds last weekend in the steer riding finals, so, small victories and all that. 

She flicks her eyes back down to the girl and sees her staring up at her with her eyebrows still raised precariously high. 

The girl starts stuttering, confusion dripping from her lips. “I-I don’t- I don’t smo-” 

She interrupts the girl’s nervous denials without thinking. “What’s your name?”

Her mouth opens and closes several times before she plants her feet and rolls her jaw back. “Waverly. My name’s Waverly. I’ve never seen you before, are you new around here?”

Surprise floods Nicole’s veins. Waverly. Waverly Earp? Why was that name familiar?

“No, you look like you are through.” Nicole hums, bending again to pick up her discarded lighter. When she straightens up, her hand goes to rest on the crest of her shiny gold belt buckle. “I’m Nicole. I’ve lived here for ‘bout seven years or so, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“Oh.” The girl, Waverly, she corrects herself, stares up at her in confusion. She sees gears turning in her head for a second before she says, “I moved away when I was a kid. I’m back now.”

Shouts can be heard again behind Waverly, and Nicole forces her eyes away to see the boys barreling over towards them. 

Shooting an apologetic look to Waverly, she twists her body to the right so that they’re far enough away to not intercept with Waverly, and spins on her boot heel to start running to the side. Kyle snags the back of her shirt in between his fingers and tugs, but she plants her feet and lets him pass her. 

She’s not expecting to be tackled from the side, but she feels the air whoosh out of her as Champ grabs her by the waist and Pete grabs her by the feet, spinning them to the ground in a cloud of red dust. The boys are all guffawing so loud she can’t really hear the ringing in her ears, but when she looks up from her sprawl half under Champ and leg caught between Kyle’s, she sees Waverly looking over with her head tilted to the side.

A smile worms its way across her face, and the one she gets from Waverly in return warms her for reasons she can’t understand. 

  
  


——

  
  


The reintroduction of the Earp’s back into Purgatory is far from seamless. Wynonna becomes the town pariah, becomes rebellious and testy, leather jacket primed and ready, and grates on Gus and Curtis more than she should. On the other hand, Waverly is welcomed back with open arms. Nicole soon finds out that Purgatory had been missing its youngest Earp with a passion.

The rodeo missed her most of all. Though Waverly had only been 7 when she’d moved away, she’d been first place in pole bending and barrels in the 6 and under category since she could ride a horse. Even when she wasn’t competing, her aunt was the head of the concession stand, and the littlest Earp could always been seen counting out money and handing out sodas.

It’s like watching the town unfold as it welcomes her back. All of this history unravels at their presence, and it leaves Nicole breathless with its suddenness. 

She finds out she’s a year older then Waverly, and only two months older than Wynonna. The eldest Earp is in all but one of her classes, and it seems like everywhere she goes, she sees Waverly. 

Her locker sits right outside of her and Wynonna’s shared English class, and she waits for Wynonna after school outside of their Gym class, and they have the same lunch. 

She learns that Wynonna doesn’t like Champ, and definitely doesn’t like the York’s, but she tolerates the other boys and some of the barrel girls. In their classes, they sit next to each other. Earp, Haught, Hardy, all in a row. Nicole gets tired of Champ and Wynonna’s bickering after about seven seconds of it, but she laughs when Wynonna calls him a rodeo clown, and high fives him when he asks where Beetlejuice is. 

Hey, they’re fifteen, cut her some slack. 

It takes her a couple weeks, but she ends up with Wynonna’s begrudging respect and has to hear the boys grumble about hanging out with her, but for a little while, it feels like she’s finally got a good dose of friends. 

Until she doesn’t. 

They practice every day after school. Well, she does. Some of the boys do too, like Xavier and John Henry. The barrel girls are always practicing, so it doesn’t feel fair to include them, but they all end up just babysitting the under 14s. 

She’s managed to get their time on team roping down ten seconds in the past two weeks, and she notices when it starts going back up again. They slip to the rear of the arena after a stern look from Nicole gets Champ’s attention, and when she’s slipping from her horse, she sees the sudden distraction clear on his face. 

Over his shoulder, tucked up into the bleachers, sits Wynonna’s little sister. The girl waves at them sheepishly, and it takes everything in her not to whack Champ in the head with Calamity Jane’s bit at the sight of him goofily waving back. 

“Hello? Loverboy?” She hisses, slinging a hand at his shoulder. He turns to her with annoyance plain on his face, loosely covered up by a patented confused puppy look. “Are we going to keep sucking or are you too busy staring at Wynonna’s sister to pay attention to our stats dropping?”

Champ huffs, resting his hip against his dark brown and mottled white horse, Conway, and levels her with a squint. 

He sighs, “I’m just- I’m a little distracted, is all.”

Oh god, a feelings talk is coming she can feel it. She’s not friends with Champ to have feelings talks or to really have any talks at all. He was the only boy that wasn’t afraid to play with her as a kid, and he was the closest to her roping score, and he didn’t mind when she just wanted to sit on her horse and not do anything. 

He doesn’t  _ talk _ . He’s Champ. All he cares about is rodeo and football. They’re a good team, and they get each other without having to share all that many conversations. 

And now, the Earps are back and suddenly he has emotions? She knew she had a funny feeling about them. 

“Distracted?” She’s better off playing dumb. Act like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about and maybe he’ll stop. 

Champ runs a hand through his hair, knocking his hat off center. It bothers her undeniably that it’s just sitting there all crooked like, and she aches to just  _ fix  _ it. 

He spares a glance back up the bleachers, where Waverly sits watching the Unders practice their ribbon race. She can see the glee so plain on her face, bright eyes lit up and how one hand is curling into the tendrils of her hair and twist- okay, not the point. 

“She’s pretty, right?” He asks. Nicole looks back down to him, his eyebrows raised and cheeks flushed like he’s getting a sunburn. Oh god, here we go. “I’m gonna ask her to go to the dance with me next weekend.”

Oh good, maybe he’ll stop moping if he’s not pining after some girl. Or, oh no, wait. “Hey now, I thought we were all going together so that we wouldn’t have to get dates. I already told three people no because you said we weren’t having dates, jackass.”

“That was  _ before _ Waverly Earp moved back to town,  _ jackass _ ,” He echoes. 

“What does she have to do with anything?” Nicole asks. 

He raises his hands up defensively. “What does it matter? I’ll ask Waverly, and you can ask Stephanie or Samantha, or-or  _ lit _ erally anyone, and then the boys can ask somebody, and everyone will be happy.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. He’s got the same look on his face as he did when he suggested they switch the talcum powder in the rodeo office out with powdered sugar, or when they stole some of the school chickens and released them in the cafeteria. Like he’s got something under his sleeve he’s not telling her. 

Sighing, she caves anyway. “Fine. What could possibly go wrong?”

Is it too late to tell yourself to knock on wood? Apparently. 

  
  


——

  
  


Last period gym is easy to slip out of. She leaves and changes back into her jeans and boots before they’ve even finished warm ups, and the empty halls echo with the clop of her heels. 

She hears her name being called distantly. When she turns to look, a small body crashes into her chest. Her hands instinctively go to cradle the girls shoulders, feet sliding back slightly against the linoleum. Icy cold hands push at her hips and when the girl leans back, she’s not altogether surprised to see that its Waverly. 

The girl flicks her head to the side and her curls bounce as they move away from her face. 

Waverly mutters, “Sorry,” before Nicole realizes they’re still holding tight to each other. 

She drops Waverly’s shoulders like she’d been burned, Champ’s  _ She’s pretty, right? _ echoing in her mind. She is pretty, she distantly thinks, the sun coming in from windows behind her and dancing across the light brown waves that crest over her shoulders, that smattering of freckles across her nose lighter now that it’s colder out, and her pretty paisley dress draped across her brings out the gree- okay.

_ That’s quite enough of that _ , she thinks. She’s pretty, but Champ likes her.  _ Champ.  _ Not you. 

It takes her a second to realize Waverly’s been talking the whole time she was lost in a daydream. 

“-and I haven’t seen Wynonna since this morning, and normally she sits with you at lunch, but I didn’t see her, and I’m getting worried and-” She rambles. 

Nicole cuts her off, “I thought Wynonna was sick. She texted me this morning and asked me to get her homework.”

Waverly stops mid-word, staring at her in disbelief. 

Raising an eyebrow, Nicole asks, “And I’m assuming that was probably a lie, then.”

“Gus dropped us off together, so she must have left from the school.” Waverly says, taking a step back and furrowing her eyebrows as she stares off into the distance in thought. “When did she text you?”

Nicole rummages in her pocket for her cell phone, thumbing back into her messages for Wynonna’s contact. It’s under  _ Beetlejuice,  _ and the last message is stamped with a  _ Read 8:42 _ . 

She shows as much to Waverly, watches the muscles in her face twist in concentration. “Does she go missing often?”

Waverly’s eyes shoot back up to hers. “Not since we moved back. When we were in the city? Yeah, all the time. But  _ now _ ? Something about it is weird.”

Nicole feels herself nodding. 

“Are you leaving?” Waverly asks, looking pointedly at Nicole’s backpack where it’s sling around one shoulder. 

Her hand tightens on its strap defensively. “Are you?”

The younger girl has her own bag resting on her back. “I wanted to go looking for her.”

“Were you planning on walking around Purgatory looking?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a good thing I have a truck then, yeah?”

-xx


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s fifteen minutes between barrel racing and steer roping, and she really should be getting her tack ready. But instead, she’s got one hand on the wall and the other hoisting Waverly’s legs around her hips. Her thumb rubs circles into the denim as her other hand moves from the wall beside Waverly’s head and into the soft curls on the nape of her neck. 
> 
> Waverly had left her horse in Wynonna’s hands and rushed to find Nicole as she was in the middle of saddling her own horse. 
> 
> “We don’t have a lot of time,” She breaks away to breathe against Waverly’s lips. “Barrel racing just ended so steer ro-“
> 
> “Steer roping starts in fifteen minutes. I know, baby.” Waverly smirks against her lips, head ducking to suck a path down Nicole’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo
> 
> we back
> 
> tw for teenage drinking, and also just, some gay thoughts

They find Wynonna in the cemetery. There’s a bottle of cheap whiskey dangling from her hand, barely wrapped in a brown paper sack, and Nicole has no feasible idea how the girl managed to obtain it. 

Nicole’s only been to the cemetery once, so she doesn’t particularly recognize the headstones that Wynonna is resting against, but Waverly does. They’d walked up the steep hill in silence with nothing to say until Waverly’s gasp broke the terse air. Wynonna’s head whips up at the sound and her eyes are bloodshot when they come to rest on the two of them. 

She feels like she’s intruding, watching the silent gazes the sisters send each other. Her feet feel like they’re glued to the patchy grass and she pretends that she doesn’t see the headstone Wynonna’s resting against reads  _ Willa and Ward Earp _ . The sisters continue to send pointed looks and hushed whispers at each other for several minutes. 

Finally, Wynonna looks back up to her. The girl’s eyes are bloodshot, whether that be from the whiskey or the tears, she’s not sure, but she seems to sober up at the hand Waverly places on her shoulder. Waverly motions to Nicole with her other hand and she feels her body pulled forward and over to them of little free will. 

“Thanks, Haughtshot,” whispers Wynonna as Nicole winds an arm around her hip and helps her stand. 

Her whiskey soaked breath ghosts across Nicole’s cheek and they stumble a few steps down the hill before Nicole swings an arm under Wynonna’s legs and lifts her. 

She squeals, which was to be expected, and Nicole can hear Waverly’s giggle behind her. Wynonna protests the whole way to the car, occasionally beating softly against Nicole’s shoulder. She slides up into Nicole’s truck slowly and slips down to lie on the seat. 

Shutting the door gently, Nicole turns back to Waverly. It’s quiet for several moments as Nicole watches the setting sun drift down behind the girl. The way the sun's rays dance across her cheekbones leave Nicole breathless in a way she doesn’t understand. 

“Thank you,” Waverly whispers, “For coming with me.”

The wind carries across them gently and Waverly’s hair flutters against her bare shoulders. Suddenly, she can’t get words to form. Her mouth feels so dry. 

She clears her throat, “Yeah, of-of course. Wynonna’s my friend, so.”

Waverly laughs. “Well, thank you anyway.”

It feels as if she’d do anything for this girl. The thought hits her so suddenly she almost gasps. 

Taking a step forward, Waverly cups Nicole’s cheek in one hand. Her lips are warm when they press against her other cheek, dangerously close to her mouth, and Nicole feels herself stop breathing. When she steps away, the wind feels colder than it had all day. 

She drops Waverly off at the Homestead, and at Wynonna’s insistence, takes them back to her house. The eldest Earp slouches out of the truck, but once she’s inside and seated for dinner, she turns into an entirely different person. 

Her parents are fairly obviously impressed with her for having a mature friend, and all Nicole can do is send shocked looks at Wynonna every time they aren’t looking.

“Are you going to the dance?” She asks later. 

It’s the first time they’ve actually spent any time together without anyone else around. Once the lights had gone out in her parents bedroom, her and Wynonna had slipped out the front door and rolled the truck down the driveway in neutral. 

She doesn’t bring up this afternoon. It feels delicate, like it’s not her place, and she’d rather not push the fragile truce they’ve found themselves in. 

They’re sitting in the field on the bed of the truck, blankets wrapped high around their shoulders to stave off the chill of the late November night. She hears a snort come from Wynonna, and lazily turns her head to meet her eyes.

“God, no,” Wynonna mutters. Her feet shuffle against the dirt in the bed and when Nicole looks back up to her, she has a faraway look in her eyes.

Nicole hums, resting her head against the window behind her. “We were all planning on going together, and then Champ decided he wanted to have a date. So now we all have to find someone to go with.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Wynonna says, rolling her eyes dramatically and sitting up. “Who would even say yes to that rodeo clown?”

She nudges Wynonna’s shoulder, “You promised to be nice to him.”

“No-o-o-o,” Wynonna sings, “I promised to stop trying to make him cry in Lucado’s class. Big difference, Haughtstuff.”

They’re quiet for a minute as Nicole wonders if she should tell Wynonna just who, exactly, said yes to Champ. The time doesn’t come, as the next thing she knows, headlights swing across the field and start making their way closer to them.

Wynonna startles and shift down, head barely poking up from the side of the bed to peak at the oncoming vehicle. She starts to follow Wynonna’s lead, but something about the look of the headlights make her pause. 

She almost feels like she’s imagining it, but speak of the devil, it’s Champ’s truck. It looks like it’s coming their way, but at the last minute it pulls onto the drive between their houses. 

“Look,” Wynonna whispers excitedly, “He’s got a girl with him!”

Distantly, Nicole hears her heart fall through her chest.  _ Is it Waverly _ , she thinks anxiously,  _ Is it someone else? _

She knows Champ is a bit of a sleazeball, has seen him with enough girls to know he goes through them like he does cowboy hats. But he  _ liked _ Waverly. Surely he wouldn’t bring another girl to the back house when he liked her, right?

She’s wrong. The blonde head that pokes out of the truck is decidedly not Waverly, and the way he grabs her around the waist doesn’t make their interaction all that friendly looking. 

Wynonna gags out an  _ ew _ and pulls Nicole back from the side of the truck as Champ looks over his shoulder at them. He doesn’t seem like he notices them as he shuts the barn door, and Nicole scrambled up from the bed and swings back into the cab of the truck. 

“Was that Samantha?” She asks, dazed, “It looked like her right?”

Scoffing, Wynonna props her legs up on the dash as Nicole starts the truck. “ _ Perky Tits _ ? Go Champ.”

She cuts the headlights before they glance across the living room windows. Her heart hammers in her chest, and her fists are clenched before she realizes. What is wrong with her? What does she care that he’s with Samantha when he’s taking Waverly to the dance? 

Fingers snap in front of her face, drawing her out of her daze. “Yoohoo, Haught? What’re you so mad about?”

Nicole grumbles under her breath. 

Wynonna seems to take that as an answer and Nicole sees her face drop into something almost like pity. “Oh please don’t tell me you’re jealous. You’re not right? Did you ask Perky Tits to the dance and now you’re mad?”

“No,” She says, pushing away Wynonna’s hand that pokes at her shoulder. “I didn’t ask  _ Samantha _ to the dance. He said he asked somebody though, but not her.”

Rocking her head side to side, Wynonna seems to let the thought roll around in her head. “Who did he ask then?”

She feels her heart stop, and she doesn’t know why. Who cares if Wynonna knows he asked Waverly. Who cares if she’s mad. Who cares if she’s a little bit  _ jealous _ that- okay stop. Her thoughts keep getting out of control and she feels her nails bite through the thick material of her jeans. 

If she tells Wynonna, she’ll bash Champ’s head in, for sure. They’ve only been here a couple months and she knows that Wynonna would do anything to protect Waverly, has done anything to protect her since before they left Purgatory. And Champ’s an idiot and brash and annoying, but he’s still her friend, and she doesn’t want to clean up a fight between them. 

“‘Dunno, actually.” She lies, and it sounds much smoother than it did in her head, “But he kept telling me to ask her, so I'm not sure.”

Wynonna scoffs. “Whatever, sucks to be the girl that said yes to that clown, either way.”

Nicole can’t help but agree, the lie knotting at the back of her chest. 

  
  


——

  
  


All the boys manage a date. Champ goes with Waverly, the York boys go with Samantha and Stephanie, and no one mentions the night that Champ and Samantha has gone back to his barn. Perry takes Chrissy and both Gardner sisters go with boys in the grade above them. 

Somehow, she ends up convincing Wynonna they should go, and they go together. 

Not really, but she does go pick her up from the Homestead, and Gus fusses over the tie that’s knotted at her throat and they take ridiculous pictures outside of the house. Nicole manages to get them out of there before Champ shows up in his lifted truck and Wynonna inevitably tries to fight him. 

She’s not pleased that Waverly is going with him, had yelled and waved around for a couple hours about it, but one pout from Waverly has quieted the protest. 

When they pull up to the school, Nicole sends a pointed look over at Wynonna, hand outstretched. 

“What?” Wynonna asks, eyes squinted. 

Nicole tilts her head to the side and looks back and forth between Wynonna and her hand. “Where’s your flask?”

Wynonna sputters. “I do  _ not  _ have a- a flask-” Nicole continues to look at her suspiciously. 

After a moment, Wynonna relents, lifting up the hem of her dress and pulling a silver flask from the garter around her thigh. Nicole rolls her eyes as Wynonna shoves it in the glove compartment. She gets a rather nasty look, but her cheeks pull as she smiles. 

When they walk into the gymnasium, she hears Wynonna gag beside her. The entire room is coated in dark drapes and candles, which, total fire hazard by the way, and a table is set up at the front with practically a hundred masquerade masks. 

“Holy shit,” Wynonna breathes, “I totally forgot that this was one of those mask wearing dances- what’re they called?”

“Masquerades, Wyn’,” Waverly’s voice comes from over Nicole’s shoulder. 

The girl has a feathered mask taking up most of the upper part of her face and the dress she’s wearing is all dainty lace and dark jewel tones, and it leaves Nicole with a dry mouth. 

She’s so distracted in sweeping her eyes back up Waverly’s torso that she almost doesn’t see the girl come up with a mask in her hand and loop it around her ears. The mask weighs against the arch of her nose and a feather on the side tickles at the skin of her cheek. She has no earthly idea what it looks like, too distracted by the look in Waverly’s eyes as she’d gotten up on her tiptoes and rested the mask against her face. 

Wynonna coughs beside her and nudges Waverly in the arm. 

“Where’s mine?” She asks petulantly. When Nicole looks over at her, Wynonna sticks her tongue out. 

Rolling her eyes, Waverly scoffs, “Get your own.”

Wynonna splutters and protests that Waverly got  _ Nicole _ one, but not her own sister, yet Nicole pays her no mind. Waverly’s attention is laser focused on her and it feels like the air in the room is being sucked out of the main doors. 

Someone shouts behind Waverly, and like the whirlwind she came in through, out she goes with a crowd of girls in similar dresses and masks back behind the stage. 

Sending an elbow into Nicole’s side, Wynonna smirks at her and brings her out of her daze. “C’mon, lets go see if the boys have spiked the punch yet.”

No one pays any mind to the protests spewing from Nicole’s lips as Wynonna drags her to the punch stand, already pulling another flask out from under her dress. 

The dance passes slowly after that. She manages to keep Wynonna upright and fairly sober the whole time, propped against a table in the back. Most of their friends are dancing and several girls keep coming over to ask Nicole to dance, but she waves them off each time. 

Champ walks past them, a smirk on his face that is  _ all too familiar _ to her, and Waverly is nowhere in sight. It’s his just-scored, proud face, and she knows for a fact that he only wears it when he’s just snuck off behind the gym to hook up with a girl. 

Stephanie trails after him slowly with a similar face, and the realization hits Nicole in the gut like that horde kick she got when she was nine. She’s up and out of her chair in a millisecond, deaf to Wynonna’s confusion behind her, and corners Champ on the opposite end of the gym. 

He looks at her like he did the first time he rode a bull, scared but accomplished, and he must see the anger seething behind her eyes because his face changes quickly into the same one he makes when she’s about to hit him. 

She does. 

And then she drags him back outside the door and to the corner where two of the steer wrestling boys are passing a cigarette back and forth. Neither even look at them. 

He protests the whole way and tries to twist out of the hold she has on the skin of his elbow, but it’s no use. She’s been dragging James Hardy places since they were eight. 

Champ whines when she lets him go, shoving him against the brick wall. 

“What is your  _ problem _ ,” He hisses, rubbing the crook of his elbow. 

She huffs at him and watches in annoyance as he wrinkles the cuffs of his shirt when he rucks the sleeve up to look at the patch of red she’d left on his skin. When he turns his neck, she sees brightly colored bruises lining the skin there, and barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Where’s Waverly?” She asks. A sheepish blush crosses his cheeks and this time the urge to roll her eyes does not get brushed away. 

At his silence, she repeats herself. His lips thin and he looks away from her. 

He sighs, finally, mutters, “She got wasted and didn’t wanna fool ‘round with me, so she went home with Chrissy.”

She takes a step closer to him and feels her shoulders pull back like they’re on a wire. 

“You let her drink the punch?” She asks, her voice coming out low. “You  _ know _ somebody always spikes the punch.”

Champ’s eyes snap up to hers and widen. “I didn’t know Kyle had spiked it, I swear. I didn’t have any, and I didn’t know she was drunk until she was too far gone. Chrissy said she’d take her home.”

“When’d they leave?” 

“Fifteen minutes ago?” He says, and he must feel the anger drain out of her, because his face goes from scared to sheepish grin. “I promise I didn’t do anything, and I wouldn’t have kissed her at all if I’d realized she was drunk, okay?”

Nicole grumbles, not really believing him, but she sees the honest look in his eyes and feels like she’s better off trusting him and making sure Waverly got home than interrogating him further. 

She pretends she doesn’t see his sigh of relief when she shoves his shoulder and leaves. She’s a good friend like that. 

  
  


——

  
  


Rounding a tipsy Wynonna up and getting her to leave is harder than she thought. 

The promise of late night 7/11 donuts eventually wins her over, and before she knows it, they’re peeling down 66 and headed towards the Homestead. 

“If you puke in my truck, I’m dumping your body in the ditch,” she warns. 

Wynonna groans at her from her slump over the dashboard. 

She prods at Wynonna’s ribs, “I’m not kidding, please don’t puke, I’ll never let you forget it.”

“Keep poking me and I’ll aim it your way,” Wynonna mumbles threateningly.

Her headlights swing out over the yard in the Homestead, and a sigh of relief finds its way out of her chest at the sight of Chrissy’s car in the driveway. 

A wave of muted music hits her as she opens the truck’s door. As she gets an arm around Wynonna to help her stumble up into the porch, the front door swings open and she’s greeted with a version of Chrissy Nedley she’s never seen before; flushed and disheveled, and she turns figure out why until she sees Waverly behind her. 

The girl is in her new cheer uniform, pom-poms raised and the bass from the song blaring from the speakers shakes the wood beneath her feet. 

She feels blood rush through her head and her feet plant against the floor, and, against her free will, her jaw slackens. 

Chrissy hisses at her, fingers pinching the inside of her elbow. “ _ Please _ make her go to bed, she’s been making me nauseous dancing all over the house.”

She distantly hears Chrissy’s words, eyes locked onto Waverly’s swaying hips and the way the bodice of the uniform stretches and pulls. Less dully, she feels Chrissy’s hand swat at her shoulder. 

Her jaw snaps shut just as Waverly sees them. 

The girl’s cheeks are flushed, whether from exertion or alcohol, and her eyes are bright in the dull light of the homestead. 

Wynonna groans beside her at the onslaught of light and sound, and she manages one last look at Waverly’s heaving shoulders and red cheeks before she hurries Wynonna up the stairs. 

She stays upstairs with Wynonna long enough that neither Waverly nor Chrissy are downstairs when she leaves. 

She can’t decide if she’s relieved or disappointed. 

  
  


——

  
  


In November, they throw a party in the acreage behind the Haught residence for Dolls’ birthday. Her dad lets her build a bonfire as long as she promises to douse it before they go to bed. 

She gets the nagging sensation that he’s proud of her, but she can’t put her finger on what for. 

The boys bring a keg, which, she should have expected. She doesn’t know how they managed to get one, but she’s not in the business of betting against Champ and the York boys and their desire for alcohol. 

She shouldn’t be surprised when Wynonna shows up, Waverly in tow. 

The eldest sister immediately gravitates towards the booze and Nicole half-hears the cheer that sounds when she starts shotgunning a Bud Light with the boys. Her senses focus on Waverly standing against the Earp’s truck, feet feeling a gravitational pull towards the girl. 

They lock eyes, Waverly’s eyebrow quirking you curiously at her, but she’s blindsided by a heavy arm around her neck and a heady stench of beer being breathed into the side of her face. When she turns, its Champ, obviously drunk, and he pulls her to the drinks table. 

She’s not really paying attention, but she realizes he’s shouting in her ear a couple minutes too late. 

“-on’t be such’a party pooper, ‘Cole,” He slurs loudly, “Come have a’few drinks.”

She debates arguing the idea for a few seconds. She knows it’ll be futile, knows if she says no to Champ, the rest of heir friends will holler about it until she eventually caves. It’s in the best interest of everyone involved to just, not argue it. 

So she slings back a beer with Champ’s arm still thrown over her shoulder, swigs from John Henry’s flask of whiskey, and tries to let herself pay attention to something,  _ anything _ other than Waverly’s gaze. 

The more she drinks, the warmer the fire feels and the more constricting her jacket is. Mercedes wolf-whistles when she shrugs out of the heavy Carhart and she barely thinks before she’s shooting a wink at the older girl. 

She feels Waverly’s eyes on her every now and then. 

Then, before she knows it, Champ’s loosened his grip on her shoulders and moved to where Waverly and Chrissy stand by the fire. She watches in half-baked amusement as Champ stumbles over and tries every line he knows on Waverly. 

Samantha moves over to stand on the other side of Chrissy, and then she watches in slow motion as he sidles up beside her and rests his hand on her thigh. 

Waverly moves away from him, obviously uncomfortable, and he follows her to the other side of the fire. 

She feels her heart thud in her chest almost painfully and her feet drag her over to where they are. By the time her just-past-tipsy wobbly legs have carried her to where they are, Waverly is shoving Champ away from where he’s tried to kiss her. 

Waverly’s quiet, “Back off Champ,” is muted under the roar of the fire and the noise of their friends. 

Nicole echoes her. Champ swings around and levels her with an incredulous look. 

“Wha’?” He asks, liquor still clouding his words. 

“I  _ said, _ ” she glowers, voice low and threatening, “Back  _ off _ , James.”

The group around them  _ ooo _ ’s at that. A cool breeze washes over her shoulders and she feels like that time when she was nine telling Champ to stop tugging on girls’ braids, and he didn’t speak to her for a week for yelling at him. Her eyes stay locked on his. 

It takes several moments for him to waver. 

He sighs, petulantly, with a pouty set to his mouth that always reminds her of when they were children, and throws his hands up in surrender. 

“Whatever, Nicole. I don’t care about some dumb Earp girls anyway.” Champ hisses. “And you wouldn’t either, if you know what’s good for you.”

She doesn’t notice her stance widening. Doesn’t notice the pressure building in her chest. Doesn’t feel her fist tightening until it’s slamming into Champ’s perfect nose. 

The crowd gasps, blood running down Champ’s mouth immediately. The boys catch him as he stumbles backward, and Pete goes to charge at her before Champ grabs him by the back of his shirt. 

Champ doesn’t even look at her. She was so expecting a fight that she’s almost winded by the lack of anger in his eyes. 

He turns to the crowd around them and he motions at their friends. 

“C’bon,” He says, nasally with blood, “Let’s beat it.”

They all start to move away and she feels anger continue to pulse through her bloodstream. 

The crowd slowly stops following him until it’s only the York boys beside him. He doesn’t seem to notice at first, but by the time he gets to the trucks, he turns and the color drains from his face as he takes in the rest of their friends standing around Nicole instead of him. 

He sighs, hand still pressed to his bleeding nose, and she feels a pang in her chest at the resigned look he sends her, but doesn’t say anything as he and the boys load into his truck. It feels final. 

Then, as they pull away, the rest of their friends slip back into the party and pretend nothing had happened, and it almost takes her a full minute to notice Waverly has intertwined their fingers. She looks back to see the girl standing behind her with glistening eyes. Her other hand, the one not entwined with Waverly’s, throbs from the crack of Champ’s nose under her skin. 

The blood rushing through her head has cleared most of the alcohol that had clouded her senses. Still, she feels as if she’s being pulled through jello as Waverly drags them away from the crowd. 

Once away from the fire and the overbearing sound of the party, Waverly walks them through the thicket of trees that line the back part of the Haught Property. The pine trees are thick after twenty feet or so, and block most of the sound. She feels a distant ounce of gratitude at the girl’s thoughtfulness. 

They stop once they’ve wandered for a bit. When Waverly turns back to look up at Nicole, her pupils have flushed the hazel from her eyes. A hand comes up to cup her cheek, cold from the chill in the air, but her fingertips must warm quickly at the heat that rushes to her skin. 

Waverly’s eyes are still locked on hers, pupils wide and tongue nervously wetting her bottom lip. 

“My hero,” she whispers, as she stretches up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss at the corner of Nicole’s mouth. 

When she pulls back, her eyes flick down to stare at where her lipstick has left a faint red mark left behind on Nicole’s skin. 

She doesn’t get much of a chance to wipe it away, because before she knows, Waverly’s pressing their lips together solidly. Waverly pushes her back against the tree behind her with her hands at Nicole’s waist. 

Pine needles will have filled her jacket for sure. The rough texture of the bark at her back pokes through her shirt and she feels irritation etch its way up her skin. The feeling quickly fades away as Waverly presses kiss after kiss to her mouth.

Her fingers wind themselves in the soft cotton collar on Waverly’s shirt, pulling her as close as possible. Waverly slots a thigh in between her legs and tilts her head to slot their lips together harder. The late cool air surrounding them almost looks like it’s steaming against her skin, the heat of their mouths and the warmth of their breaths causing thick clouds of steam to drift off of them. 

Cold fingers drift up underneath her jacket and untuck her shirt. She jumps a little at the sudden intrusion, but they soon warm themselves as they dance up her ribcage. The muscles in her stomach twitch at the feeling and it makes Waverly smile into their kiss. 

Waverly’s tongue curls around the back of her teeth. Heat rushes through her spine and her hands drop down to wind into the pockets of Waverly’s jeans, pressing them together tightly. She feels Waverly nip at her bottom lip before her hand crawls its way up her stomach to palm at her chest gently. Nicole arches up against the pressure of Waverly’s thigh between her legs and breaks the kiss to whimper into the night.

She gasps as Waverly wastes no time before darting down to bite kisses down the column of her throat. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Nicole whispers. Her heart races at the feeling of Waverly’s mouth against her skin, and she feels a longing twinge deep in her belly for the time she’s pined after her, but she knows that the longer they stay out here, the higher the chance one of the boys, or  _ worse _ , Wynonna will find them. “We should- we should get back.”

Waverly drops kiss after kiss up her neck, dots one on each cheekbone, before kissing her on the lips so slowly she feels like time has stopped. Her hand comes up to cup Nicole’s cheeks as she slows their kisses until their foreheads rest together and their breaths cool into mist around them. 

The night air seems so still, trees covered in snow twinkling in the reflection of Waverly’s eyes and the light from the bonfire in the distance catching her eyelashes and dusting her skin with a warm glow. She feels breathless at the sight, warm deep in her skin at the state of her kiss-bruised lips and the smear of pink lipstick around them. 

It’s as if all the air is sucked from her lungs, and she forgets what her issue was immediately. Her hands had been sitting idle tucked into Waverly’s back pockets, and she uses that perch to pull the girl closer to her, slotting their lips together again. One hand drifts up Waverly’s back to curl into the hair sticking out from Waverly’s beanie and tilt her head back. 

She smiles around Waverly’s bottom lip, and almost misses the soft sound Waverly lets out. Her eyes fly open and their lips separate with a dull pop. 

It’s dark out, and the fire has petered out even more so there’s barely any light to see into the dark forest around them, but she can see Waverly’s flushed cheeks and the way her chest heaves against Nicole’s own and the glossy look in her eyes. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” She whispers, breath puffing over Waverly’s lips. 

She’s been doomed from the start, it seems. 

  
  


——

  
  


There’s fifteen minutes between barrel racing and steer roping, and she really should be getting her tack ready. But instead, she’s got one hand on the wall and the other hoisting Waverly’s legs around her hips. Her thumb rubs circles into the denim as her other hand moves from the wall beside Waverly’s head and into the soft curls on the nape of her neck. 

Waverly had left her horse in Wynonna’s hands and rushed to find Nicole as she was in the middle of saddling her own horse. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” She breaks away to breathe against Waverly’s lips. “Barrel racing just ended so steer ro-“

“Steer roping starts in fifteen minutes. I know, baby.” Waverly smirks against her lips, head ducking to suck a path down Nicole’s neck. 

She feels her breath come out in a stutter, hips pressing Waverly into the wall of the barn that she’s propped against. 

Fighting a moan at the feeling of teeth nipping at the sinew they find, she laughs. “Baby, huh?”

Waverly doesn’t make any motion to divert from her path, but she feels a smile press into her skin instead of the sting of teeth for a moment. Her legs tighten around Nicole’s hips, starting a gentle rocking motion that makes her belt buckle clink against a pearl-snap button. Her senses feel like they’re being overloaded with Waverly, Waverly, Waverly, and she almost can’t breathe her chest feels so tight. 

“You call me ‘Darlin’ all the time,” Waverly says, muffled against her skin, “Fair’s fair,  _ baby _ .”

The beginnings of a moan rumble deep in her chest, her fingertips sliding against the denim of Waverly’s jeans, catching at the rhinestones on the pockets and pulling her closer. Waverly’s hands find their way beneath the collar of Nicole’s shirt, fingers sliding as her mouth sucks a hard bruise into Nicole’s neck. 

The announcer in the distance booms out a 10-minute warning, voice echoing across the metal in the barn. 

Nicole’s head tilts back as Waverly continues to kiss her way across her neck and shoulder. A thin sheen of sweat has started to coat her skin and she feels her shirt pull at the shoulder blades where she’s got her arms outstretched to hold Waverly against the wall of the barn. Her hat had been knocked to the floor, she thinks, and the curls she’d slicked behind her ears that morning have come loose in the wake of Waverly’s curious hands. 

The ache between her thighs does not lessen as she continues to press against Waverly and feel teeth and a wicked tongue work against the skin of her neck, no doubt marking her for the rest of the rodeo to see. She fights a moan back at the feeling, and, though she desperately wants to continue, worms a finger under Waverly’s chin and moves her back up into a kiss. 

Their lips slide against each other for several minutes, several hours, god, it could have been several days. She’d had a conscious thought minutes ago when she’d intended to move Waverly until they were face to face so they could slow down, ease her down so Nicole could slip off to team roping, but with the way that Waverly’s tongue worked its way past the seam of her lips and curled around the back of her teeth, her mind was fairly distracted. 

The only reason she pulls away is because of the gasp to their right. 

They break apart breathlessly, Waverly’s legs dropping to either side of her fairly unceremoniously. When she swivels her head to the side, she’s met with a sight she would have paid a million dollars not to have seen. 

Standing at the entrance of the barn is Wynonna, hand wound in Athena’s reins, with her mouth agape in shock. 

Nicole takes a step back from Waverly and runs a shaky hand through her hair. Her mouth opens and closes several times, throat dry, unable to find any words. 

“Baby,” Waverly whispers, “You have to go, they’re announcing the teams.”

Opening her mouth, Nicole tries to turn back to Wynonna to explain it, explain  _ something _ . But she can’t. Her feet are glued to the floor and her mouth won’t make a sound. 

Words have so easily helped her in the past, especially since her and Wynonna have been friends, but she feels the air rush out of her at the angry look in Wynonna’s eyes. 

A gentle hand pushes at her side. She looks back to Waverly, sees the confidence in her eyes and no trace of fear. 

_ Go,  _ she mouths. 

And so Nicole does, slipping past an angry Wynonna with something desperately close to apology on her face, and runs to her horse. 

When she looks back as she’s sliding up into Jane’s saddle, Doll’s hand warm on her shoulder, she sees the sister’s with their foreheads pressed together. Wynonna must feel Nicole’s eyes on her, because she looks up right as Nicole goes to move away. 

She raises a hand to them, sheepish grin on her face, and Wynonna mimes shooting a gun at her. They’re too far away for her to really make it out, but she’s pretty sure she can see Wynonna’s eyes roll as she mumbles something to Waverly. 

The last thing she sees is Waverly tackling Wynonna in a hug as she rides out into the arena. 

They win the team roping event, of course. She was up against the substitutes for Champ and Pete anyway, and they were the only ones close to her and Dolls’ level. They’ve got the substitutes best by nearly ten seconds, and practically everyone else either was disqualified or only got the horns roped to begin with. 

Waverly runs to her as soon as she’s dismounted, jumping up and wrapping her legs around Nicole’s waist and peppering every inch of skin with kisses. 

They quickly excuse themselves from the festivities. Team Roping is the last event Nicole is in, and there’s still hours before the awards ceremony. They wave to Gus standing at the concession stand with Wynonna, and make their way to Nicole’s travel trailer in the rear of the parking lot. 

With shaky hands, definitely not aided by Waverly’s own winding themselves in her jeans, she unlocks the door and pulls Waverly inside. 

Nicole has her picked up and against the wall of the trailer before the door has even closed all the way. Waverly winds her legs around the hard swell of Nicole’s hips and threads her fingers through the thick red curls at the back of her head. When the door slams shut, Nicole hikes Waverly’s legs higher up, past her belt, pressing her roughly to the door. 

Long fingers tip her chin up, Nicole breaking away from the kiss to drag her teeth down the sinew of Waverly’s neck and suck a bright crimson bruise at the juncture of her shoulder. She feels Waverly’s hips rock into the cool metal of her belt buckle and groans at the thought of there being marks left on her thighs from the rough texture in the morning. 

Nicole rucks her shirt up and a hot hand dances its way up her rib cage with purpose. The hand she has snagged in Nicole’s hair grips tighter at the touch, her ankles crossing tightly behind Nicole’s back. 

“Holy shit,  _ Waverly _ ,” Nicole moans, voice hoarse and low with arousal. Teeth nip at her neck again, tongue soothing the burn gently, before mapping a path up towards her ear. 

Nicole’s heart hammers in her chest, surely loud enough for Waverly to hear, and the rough texture of Nicole’s jeans chafe against Waverly’s bare thighs as she pushes Waverly closer the the wall with her hips. The incessant pressure there is driving her mad with want and she chuckles over the sounds of Waverly’s mewling whines. 

Nicole pulls back to look at Waverly’s heaving and flushed chest, and goes to lick her way into the heat of Waverly’s mouth when a pounding sounds outside the door they’re perched against. Her head swims for several seconds as she tries to process the sound, Waverly’s hips still rocking against her belt. 

The pounding begins again, this time accompanied with a shout of, “Haught! It’s Wynonna! Open up!”

Waverly’s head falls back against the door with a rush of air coming from her parted lips. She rolls her eyes and pulls Nicole forward by the shirt. Nicole’s lips find their way back to Waverly’s throat as she bangs on the door. 

“Nicole’s busy!” Waverly shouts, and Nicole can hear the grin on her lips. “Come back later.  _ Way later. _ ”

Wynonna’s sigh of disgust is loud, and her constant pounding against the door stops. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, babygirl, please _ please _ don’t ever do that to me again. Tell Haughtshot to come by the field house whenever she surfaces!”

Nicole chuckles against Waverly’s collarbone, teeth laving over the skin there and leaving a pretty bruise blooming in their wake. Waverly sighs as Wynonna’s boots stomp away. 

Hands grip the collar of Nicole’s shirt and haul her back up to press against Waverly’s lips. Waverly’s pupils are blown and a bright red blush dusts her cheeks and ears and the tops of her still heavily breathing chest. One of her calves drops down the pull at the back of Nicole’s thighs and press them even tighter together. 

Waverly mumbles against her lips, “Take me to bed, preferably before she comes back,” and all Nicole can do is comply.

It feels like she’d follow this girl to the ends of the earth if she could. And judging by the look on Waverly’s face as Nicole unbuttons her pearl-snap and toes off her boots, so would she. 

  
  


——

  
  


The sun beats down against her back, and she wishes she’d worn more sunscreen. They’ve got a whole bottleful back at the Homestead. But you couldn’t pay her anything to leave a view like this.

Waverly lounges on a faded bach towel right out in the sun. She has a big floppy hat keeping the light from her eyes, and overly large rounded sunglasses perched low on her nose. When she’d slathered Nicole in sunscreen before they left, and her in tanning lotion, she’d made a comment about how she’d better put more lotion on so the sun would get her instead of burning Nicole to death.

She has this skimpy, teeny,  _ tiny  _ black bathing suit on, the straps so small she couldn’t even see them if she squinted. Oh, oh okay, that’s why she couldn’t see them. She can’t see the straps because Waverly had, had taken  _ off _ the straps and now the only thing holding up the top of her suit is just sheer luck. 

If her mouth was hanging open, well, nobody was around to see it.

“You gonna sit over there and stare all day, baby?” Waverly calls, never once looking up from the magazine in her hands. “Or are you gonna get your gorgeous butt over here to keep me company?”

Waverly still hasn’t looked up, but damn if she has that smile on, the one that makes anyone within 50 feet melt in a puddle right in front of her.

She grins, shouting back, “I thought you didn’t want me to burn!”

“Well, if you do,” and now she looks at her, oversized sunglasses slipping down her nose and her eyes looking right at her. She winks. “Guess I’ll just have to rub aloe all over you until you heal. So you better get over here, Cowgirl.”

Nicole has probably never gotten up and run ten yards faster in her life. When she sprawls over Waverly on that teeny towel, there’s some squealing and elbows digging into her side, but once they’re situated she lands a kiss square on Waverly’s mouth, and they don’t talk again for a while. 

Later, when Waverly was, in fact, rubbing aloe all over the bright red sunburn that covers most of her back and the backs of her legs, she’ll know it was worth it. 

Waverly has the coldest hands in the universe and they’d stuck the aloe in the freezer while they showered off the rest of their lotion. The chill of it sends goosebumps from her neck to her feet, and she’d brushes it off as just from the temperature, instead of the feeling Waverly gave her every time they touched.

“Do you think ‘Nonna is gonna be okay with us eventually?” Waverly asks quietly. Her hands have stilled on her back.

Nicole feels her chest seize up a little.

“I-” Her voice breaks in the middle of the word. She clears her throat and stares down at the fraying towel underneath her. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for so long, and now she feels like I’ve betrayed her. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for lying to her.”

Waverly started rubbing the gel in again, her hands making smooth circles up and down her back. They’re quiet for several long moments.

“Do you ever think about what’s gonna happen when we both stop rodeoing?” Nicole feels the words leave her in a rush. “Like, once everything has settled down?”

When Waverly’s hands slip in the gel and graze her sides she feels all the air flow back into her lungs. 

She hums at her, and Nicole wishes she could see the expression on her face. Finally, she leans down and whispers in her ear, “Is this your round-about way of asking me if I wanna settle down when we retire?”

The gel had to be rubbed in enough, so Nicole rocks sideways gently and flips over so Waverly is straddling her waist. Waverly’s eyes go wide and she leans over to wipe the rest of the aloe off of her hands onto the towel below them.

“Maybe,” she says, hands finding Waverly’s hip bones and stroking gentle fingers over them.

Waverly grins down at her again, the same grin she gave her outside, same grin she gets every time, and Nicole feels like she’d have floated away if Waverly hadn’t been holding her down.

“Maybe,” Waverly echoes, and she feels it right in her heart. She leans down to kiss Nicole and her chest feels full of butterflies. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry it will still get gayer
> 
> find me at the same name on twitter and instagram and tumblr
> 
> \--liam


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Like,” she drawls, one finger dancing it’s way up Nicole’s dark blue pearl-snap to the top three buttons that are undone, winding into the white undershirt that sticks out. “I say your name when we’re here, alone, in that nice big bed behind me.”
> 
> Nicole’s mouth drops open just the slightest bit. “And what, pray tell, are we, uh, doing in that nice big bed back there that makes you say my name?”
> 
> She arches her back enough to let the towel slip down an inch or so. Nicole follows the movement with her whole body, eyes and chin dropping, hips pressing into hers, torso bending to give herself a better view. 
> 
> “Well, hopefully, I’d be doing you.” Waverly sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we back bitches 
> 
> who knows when i’ll update again lol
> 
> cw for ... uh ... some mature situations, including but not limited to, sex
> 
> it gets steamy y’all 
> 
> pls forgive me god

Wynonna isn’t all that okay with it. 

She acts like it for a little while, plays along with their happiness and general absurdity with how publicly affectionate they’ve become. 

It doesn’t change the fact that she sees the sideways looks Wynonna sends her when they’re cuddled up together or when Nicole softly calls her  _ baby _ and helps her down off of Athena. 

It takes two weeks before she snaps. 

She corners Wynonna during Nicole and the boys’ practice one day in the barn. It’s hotter than asphalt outside and she can’t decide if it’s anxiety or the heat that’s making sweat roll down her back. 

Wynonna still wears her leather jacket. Stubborn as the day she was born. 

Her sister raises a dark eyebrow at the way she has her arms crossed. It’s a defensive stance she’s had since they were kids, and she  _ knows _ Wynonna knows what’s wrong but she just won’t admit it. 

“Ya got a problem, babygirl?” She asks anyway, and the heat clings to her skin at the petulant look being sent her way. 

Waverly rolls her eyes, uncrosses her arms and leans back against a stall door. “Do you?”

“You’re the one that’s been glaring at me all day, so you tell me,” Wynonna says darkly. 

They fight often, never for real issues, always about easily brushed away arguments and disputes. This doesn’t feel the same. 

“And you,” she protests, pointing a finger in Wynonna’s direction, “Have been glaring at me and Nicole for longer.”

Wynonna scoffs. 

There it is. 

“It’s not my fault you guys can’t stop sucking faces long enough to just- be, I don’t know, normal?” 

She sputters, “We’re not  _ sucking faces _ , Wynonna! We just- we’re, she’s my-” 

“Girlfriend?”

Anxiety creeps up her skin. It’s not… unnatural to hear Nicole referred to as that. But she’s not used to it. They’ve been kissing in every location available for months, seeking each other out every time they can, but they’ve never put a label on it. They talk but, never like that. 

“Kind of,” Waverly whispers, and it’s broken and soft and not what she feels like she should be saying. 

_ Kind of _ doesn’t being to encapsulate the feeling Nicole puts in her chest when she sees that smile and those dimples and the crinkles by her eyes. 

_ Kind of _ doesn’t describe the jump in her heart when Nicole wakes up in the morning and blinks starlight from her eyes and kisses her stronger than the sun streaming in. 

_ Kind of _ doesn’t make her eyes roll back and her toes curl and heat lick enticingly up her spine with the way Nicole looks in a crisply ironed pearl-snap and her nice jeans and the way it feels when she hikes her up against the nearest flat surface and paints bruises on her thighs with the memory of a shiny belt buckle. 

“ _ Kind of _ ?” Nicole echoes behind her. And it breaks her heart. 

Wynonna’s eyes widen and she feels herself take a step back at the tone of Nicole’s voice. It sounds hard, steel cut, like it did when they moved here and Nicole still didn’t trust anyone. 

_ Kind of _ seems like a disservice now. 

Waverly means to apologize, means to say  _ something _ , anything at all to alleviate the confusion in Nicole’s eyes. 

She does what she’s gotten good at, she runs. 

She turns her phone off after it vibrates incessantly for an hour. She doesn’t know why she runs, doesn’t know why the air flowing through her lungs feels like relief, doesn’t know why she couldn’t just explain what she was feeling to Nicole and stay. 

The Homestead looms into view after she’s paced around the town for an hour or so. 

It’s quiet, so she knows Wynonna isn’t home, and she heads upstairs. 

She’d stood in the shower for almost an hour, letting the water go as hot as it could and just watching it turn her skin red, trying desperately to wash the last couple of days from her body. 

When she got out, the house was cold and empty, and then there was a knock on the door. She had half a mind to leave it unanswered. The echo of a migraine tinged with old tears pounds at her head.

She doesn’t want to hear that tone of Nicole’s voice, cold and hard earlier in the day. 

She answers it anyway. 

It’s particularly fascinating to see how wide Nicole’s eyes get when they rake over her body that’s still clad in only a towel. Nicole’s eyes trace the water that drops down her shoulders from her still wet hair. 

Waverly’s next breath is a hair short of a longing sigh.

“I love a good ogling as much as the next girl,” she starts, nervous grin set into her face, “But can we take the ogling into the house? I’m far too wet to be freezing to death.”

Nicole’s eyes have the same glassy smoothed over effect they have every time they're alone. A blush has spread to her cheeks and down her throat and onto the curve of her breast under her pearl-snap. It takes her at least thirty seconds, but she clears her throat and hastily closes the door behind her. 

She doesn’t wait for Nicole to follow, just turns and heads for the bedroom while Nicole hangs up her coat and toes off her boots. Waverly knows that she’s going to line them up beside Wynonna’s messily strewn heels and boots, and her own sprawled out collection teetering by the door, knows she’ll brush the lint off her coat before she hangs it and she’ll check the lock before following. 

_ It’s called a routine _ , Nicole always said,  _ I don’t like messes.  _

She still follows up behind Waverly rather quickly, however. 

Waverly just barely sits on the edge of the bed before Nicole walks in. She feels anxiety lap up against her hands when she sees the look in Nicole’s eyes. 

“I don’t, uh, I-uh, I came to apologize.” She stammers. 

There’s that blush high on her cheekbones that Waverly wants to kiss off. She knows it won’t fade any time soon, not if she has anything to do with it. 

“I don’t want to fight or anything.”

Waverly quirks at eyebrow at her.

It feels like all the stress and anxiety she’s had the past couple of hours has melted out from her feet into a puddle on the floor. She can hear the echo of Nicole from earlier in the day fade from her mind, feel the tension from her argument with Wynonna ebb away, until she’s left with nothing but a towel and a heated desire to wash the pout from Nicole’s face. 

Standing, she reaches behind her for the towel she’d left on the bed for her hair. When she reaches up to dry it, Nicole’s eyes go wide at the way her towel that’s barely wrapped around her chest slips. 

“If you didn’t come for that,” She says, “What did you come for then?”

Nicole gulps. “I, um, I didn’t want you to go to bed angry with me. And I didn’t wanna go to bed knowing you were angry with me.”

Waverly nods, arms still up toweling her hair. “I’m not angry with you, Nicole. I’d be an idiot if I thought Wynonna finding out was going to go as smoothly as I wanted it to. It’s no one’s fault that she’s mad and it's not your fault that we fought about it.”

She gets a smile for that. “You’ve got a good poker face. But we’ve had a pretty wild day and ya only really call me by my name when you’re mad at me.”

Thousands of thoughts race through her in a matter of seconds. She can feel the anxiety from earlier creep up her spine and desperately wants to ignore its presence. She changes tactics with a smirk on her face. 

“Well, there  _ are _ other times I call you by your name.” She says silkily, her voice dropping half an octave.

Letting the towel in her hands drop to the floor, she takes a step forward until she’s almost touching Nicole. 

“Like-like when?” Nicole stammers. Her blush gets darker and darker by the second. 

She slowly hooks her hands in Nicole’s belt, popping the shiny buckle and sliding her hands under it. It’s easy to turn off the other parts of her brain that worry, easy to pull Nicole forward by the ends of her belt until there’s only an inch separating them. 

The belt comes off slowly. Each loop it goes through takes so many seconds to pass it feels like forever. She never looks away from Nicole’s eyes as she does it, and when it’s come through the last rung, she tosses it beside them onto the rug. 

It’s a testament to how entranced Nicole is that she doesn’t even bat an eye at the sound her rodeo buckle makes when it hits the floor. 

“Like,” she drawls, one finger dancing it’s way up Nicole’s dark blue pearl-snap to the top three buttons that are undone, winding into the white undershirt that sticks out. “I say your name when we’re here, alone, in that nice big bed behind me.”

Nicole’s mouth drops open just the slightest bit. “And what, pray tell, are we, uh, doing in that nice big bed back there that makes you say my name?”

She arches her back enough to let the towel slip down an inch or so. Nicole follows the movement with her whole body, eyes and chin dropping, hips pressing into hers, torso bending to give herself a better view. 

“Well, hopefully, I’d be doing  _ you _ .” Waverly sighs. 

Nicole’s eyes shoot back up to hers, jaw snapping shut. Her eyebrows crest up so fast they almost disappear into her hairline. Hands tighten at her waist noticeably and her eyes fall to the way Nicole swallows hard at her words. 

“Me?” Nicole asks. Her voice has gotten gravely and dark, just like Waverly wants. 

The finger that’s been dancing up and down Nicole’s shirt comes to a stop at the fourth button. She pinches it between that finger and her thumb, popping it open without hesitation. 

She smiles, teeth rolling over her bottom lip and stretching it. “Yes, just you, always you.”

Her patience wears out immediately, and she takes the hand that’s been holding onto the top of Nicole’s pants and tangles it in the hair at the back of her head, pulling her in for a bruising kiss. 

Nicole pushes back against her. Her hands pull at Waverly’s hips until they’re flush together. Her nose skims over Waverly’s as she changes the side they’ve started on, top lip sliding between Waverly’s and teeth pulling at her bottom lip. The hand that’s tangled in Nicole’s hair pulls at the same time arousal licks up her spine and she feels the shudder Nicole gives at the sensation in her bones. 

They’ve started walking backwards slowly, and she undoes the buttons of Nicole’s shirt as they make their way to the bed. She hopes there’s nothing she can trip on, (because wow, what a way to kill the mood.) 

When the last button is undone she hastily rips the shirt tails out of Nicole’s starched jeans, shirking the shirt off and the undershirt over her head and running her hands over all the newly exposed skin. 

“God,” she groans, Nicole’s head gliding down to bite a kiss at her pulse, “You’re so- so-”

“So what?” Nicole asks against her skin. 

“I was gonna say hot, but I knew you’d make fun of me.”

Nicole pulls back, blown pupils reflecting the light of the sunset coming out of her window.

“Me?” She asks with one hand innocently on her chest. 

Waverly pokes at her sternum, “Yes, you. Every time I try and say you’re hot, you go, ‘Well it is my last name, baby, it’s best I live up to it.’”

Shrugging, Nicole smiles as she drops a teasing kiss just barely on Waverly’s lips. “It’s the truth, baby.”

She rolls her eyes, distracted again by the skin on display in front of her. “Well,  _ Haught _ , you might be onto something after all.”

This kiss feels just like the fire burning the back of her throat. Nicole’s fingers are pressing hard into the towel that rests above her hips, pulling at it just barely. Her teeth are nipping at her bottom lip, tongue sliding out to soothe the burn every now and then. 

She reaches one hand up to unclasp Nicole’s bra, and the other slides around and undoes the towel around her chest. When Nicole opens her eyes, they immediately glass over as she looks her up and down. 

“I am severely overdressed, I think.” She says quietly. It comes out deep and gravelly. 

Waverly plucks the button of her pants open with one hand, pulling her closer as she does it. 

“You might be right again, Cowboy.”

She slides the zipper down slowly, eyes never leaving Nicole’s. When it finally hits the bottom of the seam she drops to her knees and looks up to see Nicole hungrily watching her. 

They lock eyes the whole time Waverly slowly, teasingly, enchantingly eases down her jeans, never looking away. When they hit the floor, heavy and stiff with starch, she rocks back on her haunches and strokes a hand up up  _ up  _ Nicole’s thigh. The muscle there jumps as she does.

“You are, something else, Waverly Earp.” Nicole swallows, hands coming up to curl into Waverly’s hair. She means to pull her up to kiss her, but Waverly has other plans. 

She leans forward and licks a stripe up the inside of Nicole’s thigh, just barely missing where she wants to go to the most. The hands in her hair tighten. Her left hand holds tight to the back of Nicole’s other thigh, but she feels like it should rest somewhere else all of a sudden. 

When she reaches up to cup the back of Nicole’s ass, she looks up to see brown eyes nearly black in the light flutter almost closed. Nicole makes a sound at the back of her throat when Waverly sinks her nails in just a bit, and it makes Waverly’s mouth water. 

Her fingers dance up Nicole’s thigh slowly. She knows what she wants to do, knows she wants to just take Nicole and never stop, but the game before is almost her favorite part. She loves the way her muscles jump and strain at her teasing, loves the soft noises she makes, loves the way her teeth clench and her jaw tenses. 

Waverly presses a wet kiss at the very top of her inner thigh, teasingly close. Her teeth nip gently there and she staves the burn of it with her tongue. The soft noise Nicole had left at the back of her throat was now a low rumble of noise that got louder the closer she got. 

Waverly looks up at her, takes in her already heaving chest and still flushed face, gives her the hottest smirk she can manage, and leans forward to lick another stripe up the center of Nicole’s underwear. 

“Waverly,” She moans above her, and all it does is make Waverly smile against the wet fabric clinging to her lips. 

Standing up, she trails her hand up as she goes, pressing none-too-gently against the soaked material of her underwear. She locks eyes with Nicole again, and sucks her damp fingers into her mouth slowly. 

She’d give anything to replay the face and noise Nicole makes as she watches it. 

There’s a heat coursing through her veins. Fire licks at her fingers and curls into the apex of her thighs. Warmth laps at her spine enticingly, and she feels all the want she’s ever felt for this woman pool in her core. 

She wants to feel and do and act in every little thing she’s ever imagined doing. Wants to feel cold steel cut into her wrists as Nicole fucks into her, wants to sit in Nicole’s lap and make her watch as she slides three fingers inside herself and not let Nicole touch her at all, wants to- wants to- wants to do everything so much it hurts. 

Their hips tilt towards each other as she leans up to bite at Nicole’s ear lobe. 

She whispers, hot and wet, in her ear, “As I was saying before I was interrupted by your disappointing lack of nakedness, I’m on a mission to, well, do you on this nice big bed right behind me, cowboy.”

“Keep calling me that, and I might have to go get my rope and tie you to this bed, Waves,” Nicole’s smile is all teasing, but, God, does she feel heat cut through her at the words. 

“Are you saying I’ve been,” Her voice drops to a low whisper, “Bad?”

Nicole gulps, finger coming up to tilt her chin up. Their lips barely touch as she says, “I might be.”

Waverly pushes against her, lips slotting between hers and tongue already lapping at the gap there. One of her hands reach down to curl into the curve of Nicole’s ass again, pulling their hips together. She hooks her other hand in the elastic of the front of Nicole’s underwear, running her nail along the skin right beneath it. 

They’re both breathing hard into the kiss, wet heat spilling out between them. 

Nicole bites at her lip again. Hands grab at her thighs and then she’s being picked up and strung low on Nicole’s hips. The angle presses against her soaking center and she feels herself grind against Nicole’s taut stomach. Once she’s satisfied that Waverly’s ankles are crossed at the small of her back, she skirts a hand up between their bodies until she rolling a finger over a pebbled nipple. 

Waverly gasps into her mouth. She grinds against Nicole’s stomach again and feels the skin beneath her soak with her arousal. 

Bending her neck, Nicole leans down and runs her tongue against the sharp jut of her collarbones and down the center of her sternum. They’re nearing the bed now, and Waverly feels anticipation crawl up her spine and her hips snap forward sharply.

“God,” she groans, head tilted back to give Nicole room. 

She feels Nicole chuckle against her skin, mouth dangerously close to the flesh her fingers are pulling and twisting gently, vibrations shooting across her skin. 

Wrapping a hand around Nicole’s chin, she pulls her face up to look her in the eyes. Nicole’s pupils have taken over her irises and turned them black, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bruised. 

“Take me to bed, please,” She purrs into the space between them, and she feels fire lick up her skin at the look Nicole gives her. 

They don’t hesitate a second. Nicole takes two long strides to the bed and sets Waverly on it gently. 

Waverly’s lips quirk up into a grin, feeling heat rush up her spine, darkness at bay in this light filled room and safe in the arms of the love of her life. She brings a hand up to cradle the side of Nicole’s face. Nicole leans in with a smile and presses their lips together softly. The angle changes when Nicole pulls her in by the waist until they’re pressed together, head to toe, kissing her deeper, lips slotting together.

She feels fingers dance up the small of her back and wind themselves in her hair, tugging gently. 

Pulling back slightly, Nicole glances a look over her face, down her heaving chest, and back up again. “Is this okay?”

Waverly darts forward to press a kiss at the slope of Nicole’s neck, marking her way upwards. She nods frantically, teeth nipping at Nicole’s ear lobe, and feels fingers shake as they run up her side. 

“If you wanna stop, anytime at all, baby,” Nicole says, a finger under Waverly’s chin so she’ll look her in the eye. “You say the word. We can slow down or we can stop altogether. Whatever you want.”

Waverly grins smugly. “I want you. Just you.”

The kiss Nicole presses to her lips at that is sweet and warm and toe curling. The flame at her spine tightens with it, pushing her to sprawl out beneath her girlfriend and just let her be had. It feels too easy to do that. 

So she does what she knows Nicole likes. Slots a thigh between Nicole’s and presses up into her as Nicole kisses a line down her throat again, teeth nipping harder at the pressure. 

“Ma’am,” She gasps into Waverly’s neck, “I’m still tempted to hog tie you if you keep distracting me.”

Waverly chuckles. “Oh, I’m  _ real _ sorry, honey. I’ll be sure to behave from now on.”

Nicole runs her tongue up the plane of Waverly’s neck, taking her earlobe between her teeth gently. 

She growls, “God, I hope not,” into her ear before closing her teeth over Waverly’s neck again. 

Gasping around a moan, Waverly’s hips buck up at the feeling of Nicole bearing down on her thigh, heat licking wetly up the muscle there and leaving her skin slick against her. 

Waverly surprises them both by rocking sideways and flipping them, straddling Nicole’s waist and tossing her head to move her hair over her shoulder. 

Nicole doesn’t hesitate, leans up and sucks a line of bruises down her neck, rocking her hips as she moves, and her hand sneaks its way up Waverly’s chest again to pinch and pull at a raised nipple now that she can use both of her hands. She feels a moan force it’s way from behind her teeth at the dual sensations on either side of her torso. 

Her hips ruck up against Nicole’s thigh with every pass of her tongue against her chest. Head thrown back and toes curling into the mattress, she feels that tantalizing heat again, whiskey thick, crest up her spine and when she opens her eyes, looks back down, it’s reflected in Nicole’s pupils. 

God, she thinks, this is what it's like to be devoured.

Nicole’s hand makes its way down the planes of her stomach. Her muscles jolt with the pressure and when Nicole glides across her ribs, her thighs tighten around Nicole’s moving one and she feels a guttural moan bubble up from her throat. 

“Baby,” she gasps, and Nicole grins against the skin of her sternum before moving up to bite a kiss to her lips. “I don’t want to beg, but, God, I will if you don’t do something soon.”

Smirking against her lips, Nicole pulls back slightly to quirk her eyebrows up in a challenge. “Well now that you mention it, you might just have to do a little begin’, darlin’.”

Before she can realize what’s happening, Nicole flips them again, and has both of her wrists held in her palm and stretched them up above her head. She shifts up to rest half of her weight on Waverly’s trapped wrists and the rest of it on her elbow, for a moment. 

She arches up under the pressure of Nicole above her, eyes almost rolling back at the feeling of being held down this way, and noses up to kiss searingly hot against Nicole’s lips. A sigh edges from her lips as Nicole sweeps her tongue past them and curls into her mouth. Her hips rock up harder onto the thigh that holds her legs apart and she feels wet heat press into the top of the thigh that’s between Nicole’s. 

Nicole’s teeth find the sinew of her neck and drag deliciously down the muscle there as Waverly whimpers beneath her. She bucks her hips up in a cresting wave, moaning at the feeling, eliciting a breathy moan against the column of her throat. 

In between the crests of the hips sliding together, Nicole’s hand inches between them. It dances across the muscles twitching taut on her stomach again, skirts up the ticklish spot on her ribs, before settling tantalizing close to where she wants them most. 

Her thighs clench, eyes rolling back in her head for a second, and she watches dazedly as Nicole kisses her way back up to her lips. 

“Is this still okay?” She asks, voice gravelly with lust and eyes nearly black in the light. 

Waverly swallows a gasp at the look of Nicole’s flushed cheeks and heaving chest. She nods, hand still held down by one of Nicole’s. 

Nicole quirks an eyebrow at her, head tilted to the side. “Out loud, please?”

She sighs, “Yes, please, god. Just- just touch me.”

Nicole grins, cheshire and toothy, before moving to swiftly press a hard kiss to Waverly’s lips. 

Smiling into the kiss, Waverly feels heat coil at the feeling of Nicole’s teeth snagging her bottom lip, tongue edging out to soothe the burn. She gasps when Nicole runs her fingers up the skin at the very apex of her thighs, dragging a finger through the arousal that’s all but pooled there. . 

Nicole walks her fingers up slowly, pressing against slick skin, before she releases the hold on Waverly’s wrists and makes her way down the length of Waverly’s body, eyes on Waverly the entire time.

She feels her heart skip several beats at the sight, watches with an open mouth as Nicole presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to every available inch of skin, feels her muscles twitch and jump with every patch that’s being sucked and bitten teasingly. 

Gasping, “Please, baby,” she winds her free hands in the messy curls atop Nicole’s head, hoping it will help to push her to where she wants her most. 

She’s almost surprised at how much want is present in her voice, how gravelly it’s become with need, how it’s edged with barely concealed lust. When she catches Nicole’s eye, she’s resting her mouth over the sensitive skin at the tops of her thighs, less than an inch from where Waverly aches for her. 

Her voice has needled to a begging whisper, spurred by Nicole’s eyes and the way she slowly licks and sucks her way across her thighs, chanting over and over  _ pleasepleaseplease _ under her breath as her hips cant up. 

Nicole hovers tantalizingly over slick folds. Her eyebrow raises challengingly again, and she feels herself almost flood with want at the sight, breath warm and aching. She gets one second of warning before Nicole’s mouth is on her and she’s arching off the bed. 

Her hands fist in red hair and she feels Nicole chuckle against her. She lets out something that’s a mix between a yelp and a moan, breath rushing from her lungs at the feeling of Nicole’s tongue flattened and lapping at her. When she glances back down at Nicole, she sees the deep flush that’s covered her own chest all the way to her stomach, and Nicole’s eyes are roaming over her entire body hungrily. 

The quiet of the room feels deafening, broken up only by her own moans and the explicit sounds coming from Nicole’s mouth on her. Thuds of her heartbeat echo loudly in her ears and she feels the beats of it reverberate through her fingertips where they’re clenched in Nicole’s hair. God, the sight of Nicole hungrily devouring her, the look in her eye as she gazed across her heaving chest and right into Waverly’s own eyes, makes her whimper in need. 

Three words hover on the edge of her tongue, three words she so rarely says, three words she’s terrified to voice aloud lest another person she loves gets taken from her. 

Three words that are replaced by something else entirely so suddenly, things like, “God, fuck,  _ Nicole _ ,” worm their way from her mouth desperately.

Brown eyes are completely taken over by black, lust and love and adoration etched into every microscopic piece of her face. It gets harder and harder to look at her as she fucks her, harder to keep her eyes open as Nicole runs her tongue and teeth gently over every soaked inch of her, harder to breathe as she gets lost in the heat and lust in the room. 

Nicole’s forearm comes to rest against her navel, fingertips pressing achingly into the skin at her side, pressing down just hard enough to control the cant of her hips. 

She wants so badly to feel Nicole’s skin against hers suddenly. Feels the ache of want rush up her spine, that has her fingers digging into Nicole’s hair as she tries to beckon her up. 

“Baby, hey,” She gasps, Nicole looks up at her with a tilt to her eyebrows and her chin slick. The sight makes warmth pool in her belly, has her thighs restlessly twitch against the sheets. 

She tries again, voice coming out less shaky and huskier than she remembers ever hearing it. “Come up here? I miss you. I wanna- I wanna feel you too.”

Nicole smiles, dragging a kiss sloppily through her wetness before crawling achingly slow up her body, stopping to drag her teeth every couple of inches. 

The heat from her mouth wraps around the raised peaks of her chest seconds before Nicole’s tongue does, and she arches up against the thigh that’s being pressed between her legs. Her tongue swirls several times before she releases Waverly’s skin with an audible pop. 

Almost distantly, she hears her heartbeat echo loudly in harmony with the sound of Nicole’s heavy breathing. The next several minutes pass by in a heady blaze. Nicole kisses a hot path up her neck, takes her earlobe in between her teeth and whispers into her ear. 

Whispers all the little things she’s thought of doing to Waverly as her fingers gather Waverly’s arousal and circle around that bundle of nerves that makes her arch her back clear off the bed. She feels Nicole brace herself on one forearm to the side of her head, and curl her fingers in the muscle at the back of Waverly’s neck, pulling slightly until their foreheads touch. 

Nicole’s eyes lock onto hers and she can’t pull away, can’t look away, can’t breathe in the gaze of adoration and love that’s etched into caramel eyes and deep set dimples and that scar above her eyebrow and everything about her. 

Heat coils in her belly as Nicole’s hand slip-slides in wetness and she hears herself gasp into the inch that’s separating them. 

“I-,” Nicole breathes, the prettiest blush spread across her cheeks, “I love you.”

She presses two fingers in with her words, deep and slow, and Waverly feels her hips come off the bed and her spine curve up into the space between them. 

There’s a tidal wave flashing before her eyes and she feels her hips pick up speed in their grind against the heel of Nicole’s hand, before they still altogether, muscles tightening and stilling. She crashes her mouth to Nicole’s, teeth clacking, and kisses her like she’s dying. 

Her voice is strangled when she pulls back and looks in Nicole’s eyes. 

“God, I love you too.” She moans, words catching in the thick feeling in her throat. Nicole’s eyebrows raise, blush spreading farther down her cheeks and to the tops of her breasts. “I don’t- I don’t say it, I- I do. And you aren’t  _ kind of _ my girlfriend, you  _ are.  _ We just never put a name to it, and I should have said something by now.”

Nicole captures her lips in a kiss far softer than they’ve been sharing. 

“I should have said something months ago,” Nicole says softly once they’ve pulled away to breathe. “I didn’t want to put any strain on it.”

Laughing, Waverly kisses her, and it feels like her worries slip away into the mattress. 

It makes it easier to flip Nicole into her back and return the favor, either way. 

  
  
  


  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on twitter or tumblr i’m funny
> 
> @badartndadjokes


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s enough to make her smile, make her think of the day she met Waverly Earp, standing outside of the church while she roughhoused with the boys in the field. The feeling of nostalgia follows them home, picks at her heart until she smiles even wider, swings Waverly up in her arms, and celebrates the night’s winnings.

_ “Tell me that you love me, oh if it’s true,”  _ She hums under her breath,  _ “I don’t want no one no if I can’t have you.” _

The radio plays Stoney LaRue’s voice softly from its perch on the open window. A cool early summer breeze billows the curtains back and ruffles Nicole’s already wrinkled, open flannel shirt every time she passes in front of it. 

She hears Waverly’s soft steps on the stairs behind her, but she doesn’t react. She knows she’ll feel cold hands wrap around her stomach and warm lips press into her shoulder blade in only a matter of seconds and wants to relish in the quiet of Waverly’s footsteps on the worn wood. 

Sure enough, after a couple of seconds, she feels Waverly’s arms wrap around her and warm kisses are dotted along her shoulder. 

She hums, tilting her head to the side to find Waverly’s lips with her own. 

It’s minty, is the first thing she notices as Waverly’s tongue traces the seam of her lips, which means the girl’s brushed her teeth and been awake for quite a while. 

When they pull away, Waverly sings the next line of the song in the space between their lips,  _ “This Oklahoma breakdown, sure do got you cryin’, so let me tell you that  _ I love you _ one more time.”  _

She feels a smile stretch across her cheeks. Spinning the girl in her arms around the kitchen, it feels like her heart could burst from the sheer amount of love that coats them. 

“I love  _ you _ , ya know?” She asks, breathless. 

They’ve come to a stop in their dance. Waverly’s wrists hang from her neck and their legs are entwined in a precarious balance. Nicole can still feel her cheeks wide with a grin and her chest heaves as she struggles to breathe. 

Waverly has a  _ 2012 Young Steer Wrestling Champion _ shirt on, and not much else, wrinkled with sleep and her hair’s tossed up in something that resembles a bun. It hits her then that the shirt is  _ hers _ , not Waverly’s, and a warm feeling spreads across her chest. 

Would fifteen year old Nicole ever thought she’d be dancing in her kitchen with the love of her life at twenty-five? Would she have anticipated half the town to ask her when she’d pop the question every time they see her? Would she have pictured a life with something other than winning junior rodeo competitions in the forefront of her mind?

No.

She doesn’t think she would have ever thought of this life.

It had started small, the introduction of the Earps into her life. She barely remembers a time when she wasn’t altogether consumed with the thoughts of these girls and their disaster filled, dastardly, incredible ways. Warm summers and windy winters and space filled falls all wound together to crush into her chest with the memories of them breaking down her walls and hurling her through adolescence. 

No one had warned her, after all.

She buys a ring the week before the WCRA Nationals in Guthrie. It presses against her leg through her starched jeans and every time she can’t feel it, anxiety races through her skin. Waverly catches her acting like a damn loon every time and gives her a look, and it takes everything in her not to ask right then.

Nationals come in like dust off the wind.

And suddenly, she knows when to ask.

\---

“It’s a beautiful day here in Guthrie, y’all,” the announcer booms over the loudspeakers. “A sunny 85 degrees out and we’re starting out with team roping in fifteen minutes!”

She takes a deep breath of the hot air, hand combing back the already damp curls trapped by her hat against her forehead. The hat itself at least relieves the blunt force of the sun on her face but does little to stem the pressure of the hangover thudding through her temples. 

There’s a feather tucked into the band from a kid in the crowd and she smiles fondly when she looks up to see most of the young children in the stands waving at her from where she rests on her horse to the side of the arena. Her hand raises in an idle wave to their delight. 

The announcer booms the scores to beat from last week's rodeo in Arcadia. Her and Dolls have the other teams beat by ten seconds across all boards, and she lazily lets her mind wander to other ways they can shave a couple seconds off while her eyes track along the inhabitants of the bleachers. 

Her perch on Calamity Jane, a dark red Paint horse, gives her enough reach that she can see over the gates and into the corral behind the judges stand. 

Nicole lets her eyes wander until she sees who she’s looking for, Waverly Earp, sitting astride her enormous black thoroughbred, Athena, leading her through practice poles slowly. A grin spreads across her lips without her noticing. 

Shouts come from her left and when she looks over, she’s not particularly amazed to see it belongs to the bronc’ riders, mostly heralded by their de facto leader, Champ Hardy, as they hype themselves up. 

Several of them compete in the team roping rounds with her, and she’s not all that fond of their company, least of all Champ. 

He’s still a thorn in her side, but they're adults now, even if he doesn’t act like it, so she just ignores him in favor of looking over at Waverly.

And now, she’s about to ask that girl, the girl she loves to marry her as soon as she crushes him in finals, and she doesn’t feel a lick of remorse. 

Dolls whistles to get her attention and she winks when Waverly catches her eye. It still brings a blush to her cheeks, even after all these years, and warmth settles in her chest at the sight.

Team roping and then steer wrestling, and as soon as they hand her that trophy, Sheriff Nedley is gonna hand her the mic and she’s going to propose to the girl she loves in the middle of the Lazy E. She can feel her heart pounding under her protective vest and the weight of the ring in her pocket reminds her of an anvil as it grounds her to Calamity.

Pete York and Bryce Cooper line up behind the starting rope, and the announcer's voice booms above them again as the crowd stills in anticipation.

She can feel sweat dripping down the side of her face and nervously curls a strand of hair back behind her ear as Pete York's dad and a Guthrie police officer get the steer in the chute. Pete winds his rope back and forth round the saddle horn, dallying it as they wait for the steer to be ready. All competitive spirit aside, she hopes he remembers to unwind it before he tries to lasso the steer, or he’s bound to fall short with his rope.

The whistle blows, and Pete’s horse takes off before the steer is even out of the chute. An automatic 10-second penalty gets added onto the board, and a resounding groan comes from Champ’s group. It takes Pete a ridiculous amount of time before he’s got a loop over both horns, and he dallies it to his horn before riding to the left and towing the steer with him so Bryce can heel both of the steers hind legs. 

Bryce’s horse refuses to face Pete’s, and they sit in a standoff for long enough that the crowd starts making anxious sounds. The round isn’t complete until they both face the other, steer strung between them, and they  _ know _ that. She knows they know it, knows they learned the lesson on it together when they were kids.

Finally, Bryce’s horse stills and the clock stops. The flagman signals the end of their run, and when Nicole looks back up, the clock has ended in a poor  _ 21 _ seconds, which is probably one of the worst times she’s ever seen for adult team roping. 

She knows her and Dolls have never been anywhere over 13 seconds, knows they’re the top in their league, knows that they have a far greater chance of winning than Pete and Bryce did. It doesn’t quell her fear. The knowledge and the confidence she typically has in herself feels lacking in comparison to the anxiety that’s wedged its way between her spine and the muscle pounding that makes up her heart.

As the boys pass by them, she calls out, “How’s the cattle?”

Pete rolls his eyes so hard she’s fairly sure he’s going to topple over backwards off his horse. “Oh, they’re  _ great _ , Haught. Just freakin’ dandy.”

Dolls chuckles behind her and she feels a little bit of that panic slip off her shoulders. Bryce sends a sheepish grin her way, blush rising to his cheeks when she laughs before following Sheriff Nedley down to the chutes.

“You in to bulldog after this, Haught?” Nedley asks as he leads them through. She knows he’s well aware that she is, but the question reminds her so vividly of being an under-14 and asking the sheriff about his glory days wrestling steers and being a hazer. 

She nods, gulping down half a bottle of lukewarm water that one of the flankmen tosses to her.

“Yessir,” Nicole manages around a mouthful of water. She nearly chokes as she catches Waverly’s eye over the heads of the bronc boys before the bleachers. 

The girl has a huge sign in her hands that reads  _ Redheads Do It Better _ , and Nicole feels her heart flood with love at the sight, even if she does roll her eyes at the phrase. Wynonna stands to Waverly’s left, and although there’s a semi-permanent look of discomfort on her face, she knows they’re both there to support her of their own free will. 

Their run goes by in a rush. 

She vaguely remembers watching the steer break from the chute. The whistle blows and her horse darts across the barrier. Her arm, entirely through years of muscle memory, winds up and swings her rope around.

She misses.

She misses.

She  _ misses. _

And then her arm whips back and the line fishes and twists in the air and pulls taut against the steer’s horn. A perfect catch. She hurries to dally the rest of the rope around the horn of her saddle, and Calamity skids to a stop as Dolls ropes the steer’s hind feet. They both pull tight and face each other and the flagman signals out of the corner of her eye.

Six seconds.

Six.

_ Six  _ seconds.

A personal best, for both of them, for Purgatory, for the state of fuckin’ Oklahoma. 

Dolls lets out a loud whoop from in front of her, and her legs almost give out from her standing perch on Calamity. The Sheriff nods at her from his post by the chutes, waving them off the side of the arena.

She kicks gently at Calamity’s flank, and watches Dolls throw his head back with laughter when his horse, Dragon, starts dancing out of the arena. Waverly starts running at them before she’s had a chance to dismount, and she almost throws herself from the saddle in her attempt to wrap the girl in her arms. 

Wrapping her arms around Waverly’s waist, she swings the girl around and around as Waverly slots their lips together heatedly. She thought the rush from their time was something she’d never get enough of, but she was wrong. It’s this, this kiss, this feeling, this girl in her arms, this love that she has for someone she never expected,  _ this _ is something she’ll never run out of.

The kiss only ends when Wynonna shouts behind them. Dolls has her pulled up in his arms and is swinging her around in a manner not unlike the one she was swinging Waverly. 

Pressing their lips together a couple more times, Waverly pulls back and grins up at Nicole. She starts twirling a strand of hair around her finger coyly as the smile on her face grows brighter.

“What’re you plannin’ on doing with all that prize money, cowboy?” Waverly asks, a blush rising to her cheeks at the look Nicole gives her.

Her eyes roll of their own volition. 

“Probably spend it all on you,” She sighs, mock-teasingly. Waverly’s arms tighten around her shoulders and her grin widens. 

She kisses her again, for the hell of it, until a low whistle comes from her left. When she turns, Dolls has made his way back to their horses and is beckoning her back to the gate.

The wind blows harder when she steps away from Waverly. It’s always felt like that, but now, so close to their uninterrupted future together, it feels harsher than it should. The smile on Waverly’s face almost pulls her back in, but she knows that she’s got less than an hour before she’s getting down on one knee and making that girl her fiance. It makes the departure a little bittersweet.

Her and Dolls sit off to the side of the arena while they wait for the pole bending to be over, and then the mutton busting. The boys to their right continually jostling each other, and it’s rowdy enough to make her glance over every now then against her own will.

Dolls raises an eyebrow at her after she glances over one too many times, half a smile breaking his façade. 

“It wasn’t that long ago that you were over there with them, Haught,” He says with a small chuckle, “Don’t look down on them so hard.”

She rolls her eyes so hard she’s amazed she doesn’t fall off of Calamity. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty,  _ Xavier _ , as if you weren’t right along with me.”

Shoving at her, he pulls the reins of his horse to the left before she can retaliate, and just like that, they’re as rowdy as the bronc boys are. Who coulda’ guessed?

___

  
  


It takes less time than she wants before steer wrestling comes up. She finds John Henry right before the event, off doing a poor attempt at flirting his way to free food from Gus at the concession stands, and drags him off by his ear before the woman can threaten to shoot him like she does every time.

They’re taking turns being the other’s hazer for this event, a well-practiced effort they’ve been honing since they were wrestling dummies on the Haught fields during the winter. His neatly rhinestoned protective vest gleams so bright in the sunlight that she's more than a little dazed by the time they make it to the chutes. 

He ruffles her hair where it sticks out from her hat and winks at her as he makes his way over to the side of the chute. The steer they have this round is mottled black and white, a big bright patch over its eye, and probably the meanest look since  _ Takin’ Care of Business _ had.

The time before the ref blows the whistle passes by in equal amounts of ten years, and the blink of an eye.

Suddenly she’s barreling out past the pig’s tail and shouting at John Henry to rush the steer to the left. She gets close enough to him and slides off the ride side of her saddle, kicking up dust as she slams into the ground with her left hand on the steer’s left horn, twisting until his legs kick out to the right. 

It passes by in slow motion. John Henry's horse kicks dust up into her mouth. The steer fights against the hold she has on him. The pounding in her ears roars louder than a fighter jet. 

And then, the ref throws out a green flag, the announcer booms her score, and John Henry is lugging her off the ground as the rodeo clowns usher the steer out of the arena. Her chest heaves as he hauls her up and she feels the pressure in her ears loosen with the roar of the crowd in the stadium around her. 

“Loooooook at that try!” The announcer booms over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gents give a hand for Nicole Haught, coming in with her  _ second _ record breaking time of the rodeo today! A time of 5.41 seconds, breaking state records previously set by Teddy Johnson!”

She must black out for a second, because the next thing she knows, she’s teetered on top of both John Henry’s and Dolls’s shoulders as the crowd rushes around her. Turning, she sees Wynonna dragging Waverly through the masses. 

Nicole clambers off the boys shoulders and stands on shaky legs as the people around them part for Waverly. She feels her heart in her throat when the girl comes in view.

Paisley red and white shirt tied up over her belly-button, rhinestone studded jeans that no one has looked good in since 2003, and shiny new boots she’d bought a month ago with her winnings from the barrel-racing championships in Texas, Nicole’s heart thuds to a monstrous stop at the sight of her.

Before she knows it, she’s dropped to one knee in the dusty dirt and she’s pulling out the ring that’s shoved between her protective vest and her cotton shirt.

Her mouth feels full of the dust still, but she opens it nonetheless.

“Waverly Earp,” she starts, as the crowd’s cheers fade away to nothing, “I’ve never won anything that meant more to me than the day I won your heart.”

Her girl gasps, as if she hadn’t already guessed what was happening.

She begins again, eyes welling with tears already, “I don’t care about my winnings, any losing, or never riding Calamity again. The thing in the world that makes me happier than any brand new rope, well oiled saddle, or shiny new spurs, is  _ you. _ ”

Waverly chokes back a sob as she collapses to her knees in front of Nicole.

She’s saying yes before the question is even out of Nicole’s mouth, and all she can do is laugh around the smile spread across her face.

“Ya’ can’t say yes to a question I ain’t even asked yet, Waverly.” Nicole scolds teasingly, but she can barely get it out before Waverly’s launching herself across the space between them and wrapping her arms tight around Nicole’s neck.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes already!” She shouts in Nicole’s ear.

Nicole laughs again, “I ain’t even asked you anything yet!”

The crowd around them finally finds their voices, apparently, shouting out, “Will you marry me, Waverly Earp?” over the top of her. And well, that takes care of it.

It’s bittersweet really, sliding that gaudy engagement ring over her girl’s finger, and it’s even more so when their whole town takes their turns congratulating her on the engagement. 

Surprisingly enough, even James stops to clap her on the shoulder in his own attempt at congratulations.

It’s enough to make her smile, make her think of the day she met Waverly Earp, standing outside of the church while she roughhoused with the boys in the field. The feeling of nostalgia follows them home, picks at her heart until she smiles even wider, swings Waverly up in her arms, and celebrates the night’s winnings. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


-the end-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol who would have guessed this would ever been finished. thank you to efa for having me on the podcast, that is LITERALLY the only reason i finished this i think. and my husband, he's pretty good at being my muse.
> 
> add my on twitter if u enjoy people who are funny

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter or tumblr by the same username 
> 
> -liam <3


End file.
